A Stark Farewell

Summary: Catelyn Stark is leaving this world, and there are a few farewells she still needs to say.

Chapter 1

Catelyn’s soul left
her body long before the knife even touched her throat.

A piece of it left
when the arrows planted themselves on Robb’s back. A little more vanished when
Lothar Frey coldheartedly butchered Talisa and her unborn baby – Catelyn’s
would-be grandson. More disappeared when Robb would not heed her order to flee.
And her heart ached dully when her son crawled to his wife, his expression full
of pain, while Walder Frey and his men watched and laughed.

Suddenly, Robb was
seven years old again, a mere child, with bright curly hair and even brighter
eyes. He was not yet the King in the North; he was not even Lord of Winterfell.
He was simply a boy, and he would run up to Catelyn, give her a hug, a peck on
the cheek, and show her his newest toys or latest achievements in his lessons.
Catelyn was reminded once again of how far they had gone from home. How long
they had been in this journey to revenge; to freedom, to justice. How long they
had not been a family, at least a proper one. Tonight, more than anything, she
wished with all her heart that all of this was just a nightmare. That she was
not really in Walder Frey’s Riverland castle, but that she was in Winterfell.
That she would wake up any time soon and find Ned sleeping beside her, the
children fast asleep on their chambers, with Robb and Rickon safely tucked in
bed, Sansa and Arya dreaming sweetly, and Bran in his bed, uncrippled and
unafraid. She even would not mind Jon. No; she would not mind waking up and
having to look at the bastard’s face for one more day. For surely, anything is
better than this nightmare. Anything is better than seeing your own son dying
in front of you, and knowing that the end of your life is near.

She pleaded;
holding onto Frey’s young wife’s hair, she pleaded with the old scum with all
her might. Spare him, please spare him. Please spare my son, my dear son, my
one and only Robb. There must be another way. There must be.

For one long
moment, Walder Frey stared into her eyes. She could not hold the tears back.
Her eyes stung. Her cheeks were damp with tears. Her throat had clenched shut,
and her entire body trembled. For a moment, she dared herself to hope. Frey
had, after all, known her and her father. They were never in the best of terms,
but surely the old man would have some mercy still within him. They were his
guests; they were under his guest right. To break the sacred pact was to break
the laws of all the gods and men. Was Walder Frey that low of a man to let his
guests die in his own castle? Her uncle was married to one of his daughters.
Surely this made them family somehow, and surely he would reconsider
slaughtering his own family. So Catelyn pleaded some more with her eyes. Please, she screamed inside. Spare him. That is all I wish for. She
was even ready to bargain her own life with Robb’s. Anything to safe her son.

So when Walder Frey
uttered the words, “I’ll find another”, Catelyn’s heart burst into a million
pieces.

Her heart broke
when Robb stood up, looked at her straight in the eye, and said, “Mother.” She
wanted, more than anything, to hold him and hide him from the world. He was her
little boy; he had always been her little boy.

When Roose Bolton
drew himself close to Robb, whispered the poisonous words, and rooted his
dagger deep in Robb’s heart, what was left of Catelyn’s soul left her body
completely.

She did not even
realize what she did next. She screamed with all her might, a bloodcurdling,
heartbroken scream, her entire body flooded with anguish, pain, and misery. The
young girl’s dead body crumpled underneath her feet, but she was not aware of
her anymore. She was not aware of anything. All there was now was darkness and
numbness.

So when the knife
slit her throat, she did not even feel the pain. She had died a long moment
ago, and she had plunged into the darkness before her body gave away.

***

There was nothing
but darkness at first. It was quiet and eerily cold. She could not feel
anything. Only darkness and numbness. Those two always seemed to belong
together in Catelyn’s world.

Then the light
appeared. Yellowish lights, the glare of fire on stone. There was blood on the
floor. Hot, sticky, and crimson blood. A blackened dagger lied a few feet away
from the pool of blood.

Then, there were
the bodies.

It took Catelyn a
while to realize that she was staring at her own body.

There she was,
lying dead on the floor of Walder Frey’s hall, her throat still bleeding, her
eyes wide open, staring at the empty ceiling. Her last expression was that of
grief, and grief was all she felt now.

She clutched her
mouth in horror. She turned around and found Robb’s body, faithfully lying next
to Talisa’s, their corpses surrounded by blood. Catelyn started to sob. She did
not know if she could still cry after she was dead, but she could still feel
the hot tears stinging the back of her eyes.

She was still
desperately sobbing when she drifted upwards. She did not realize herself
passing through the castle’s roofs. She was not aware of herself drifting
higher and higher into the skies. When she dared open her eyes again, she found
herself floating high above the sky, higher even than the moon, staring down at
the entire land of Westeros.

Her eyes found
Riverrun first. Her childhood home, the one place where she used to feel the
safest. What would become of it, now that Edmure was rotting in the dungeons
and Brynden a wanted fugitive? Walder Frey would probably claim it, the selfish
and evil scum that he was. Catelyn’s heart ached imagining her haven tainted by
someone like Frey. She would rather watch the castle crumble to dust than let
it fall to his rotten hands.

She found
Winterfell next. Her second home, her home for the last seventeen years, the
majestic and grim castle surrounded by thick inches of snow. It had been burnt
to the ground, and it hurt her again to see the castle reduced to ashes. There
was the court in which her children used to play. There were her family’s
rooms, her family’s chambers. There were the stables where Arya used to feed
the horses; the stone walls that Bran used to climb; the archery field where
Robb and Bran would practice. There was the banquet hall, last used to serve
the King and his comrades. There was the godswood, with its red-leaved heart
tree and serene pool. Maester Luwin’s frail, empty shell of a body lied against
the tree trunk, his eyes staring at the vast emptiness before him. Oh, Maester, Catelyn thought. He had
been her most trusted advisor, the one she turned to for advice in times of
distress. Now he, too, was gone. All the good men die too fast.

Underneath the
smoking ruins were the sacred crypt of the Starks, where Rickard, Brandon, Lyanna
and all the other noble Starks rested. She was filled with regret, for surely
Ned’s, Robb’s, and her bodies could never rest in the crypt. They would never
be reunited with their ancestors. What would become of them then? What would
they do to their corpses? Catelyn did not want to find out. They would treat
their bodies cruelly, these barbaric men. Frey’s men had no respect for the
Northern army, and they would jump at every chance they had to humiliate the Starks.
She simply did not need to know.

She gave Winterfell
one last, long look. She knew she’d have to say goodbye to this place. She no
longer belonged here. It was now nothing but ashes, ruins of the glorious
fortress it once was. Nevertheless, it had served as her home well for so many
years. It was hard for her to part with it. She placed a hand on the stone
walls, slowly kissed it, and turned her back on it. This would be the last time
she landed her eyes on the walls of Winterfell.

She focused her
mind to what mattered most now – her children. Her remaining children who were
alive. She needed to know where they were.

She thought of
Sansa first. Her dearest daughter, her sweet, beautiful Sansa. She raced south
and found herself in King’s Landing, in the King’s castle, inside a chamber
that must be Sansa’s. Catelyn frowned in disgust. The last time she was in
King’s Landing, she had seen and kissed her husband for the last time. She
resented this place with all her might. She resented everyone that roamed
inside this castle. Joffrey, the devil-incarnate of a king; Cersei, the bitch
that was not worthy of being Catelyn’s queen; Tyrion, the imp with the devilish
smirk on his face; and most importantly, Tywin Lannister, the mastermind behind
these cruel schemes. She wished with all her heart that she could strangle them
all with her bare hands. But what could she do now? She could only drift around
aimlessly.

There was a
raggedly doll on the table next to her bed. Sansa, who claimed that she had
stopped playing with dolls when she was nine. Ned gave her that doll. Now it
must serve her as a painful reminder that she was fatherless.

She found Sansa by
the closed window, staring out blankly at the bustling city. Her eyes were red
and puffy, her tears falling freely like a waterfall down her cheeks. She must
not yet be informed of her and Robb’s deaths, yet she was crying over them. She
must have sensed that something was wrong. Or she was simply missing them. Soon
she would learn that she was also motherless. That she was an orphan,
completely alone in this dangerous world. Separated from everyone she loved.

Catelyn’s heart
broke then; Sansa, her dearest, oldest daughter. How much pain had she endure,
how much heartbreak. She had lost so many in so short a time. Now she was to
marry the imp, a man she barely knew, let alone love. This was all a plan in
Cersei and Tywin’s cunning game. How would they embarrass her and Tyrion in
this game? How would they use the couple? Yet she surprisingly was grateful
that it was Tyrion she was marrying, not Joffrey. At least Tyrion would never
beat her or treat her as if she was nothing but his personal toy. Tyrion had
always had a degree of respect and affection for Sansa. Catelyn saw kindness in
the imp’s heart, despite everything they had been through. She knew that at
least Tyrion would try to protect her.

But Sansa was still
hurting and humiliated from her wedding. She was the newest ridicule in this
damned city. Catelyn could not stand watching her daughter cry. How could a
girl of barely fourteen handle so much pain in her life? Catelyn was proud of
her strong and resilient daughter. She wished Sansa would have strength left in
her to carry on. That she would not give up, not yet. She prayed to the gods
that life would treat Sansa more kindly in the future. She prayed for her
safety, for her happiness. She held her daughter’s hands in hers, wishing that
she could feel her presence there. But she could not. She simply could not.
Catelyn kissed Sansa’s cheek and whispered her goodbye in her ears.

Arya came next. Her
brave and fierce girl. She was shocked to find that she was not in King’s
Landing as she thought she was. She was even more aghast when she found out
that Arya had been so close to her. They had almost been reunited. Had Arya come
half a day sooner, they would have met again. She would be able to hug her baby
girl once more. Then again, if Arya was there, surely she would have been
killed as well. She thanked the gods that at least her youngest daughter could
still live. Although Catelyn feared for her life, being in the mercy of Sandor
Clegane, she knew that Arya was a fighter. She would survive. She would be all
right. She would grow up strong to be a warrior. And one day, she would be
reunited with her brothers and sister.

Arya was lying
unconscious in the Hound’s embrace. Her beautiful hair had been cut short to
resemble a boy’s. Her face was covered with dirt. Her temple was slightly
bleeding. Catelyn brushed her fingers at Arya’s cheek, kissed her, and said her
farewells.

Little Rickon came
next. She was more than relieved and joyous to find that her sons were still
alive. Rickon was waddling along the road with Osha, the wildling they had
enslaved on the outskirts of Winterfell. Catelyn had never entirely trusted the
wildling, but from the looks of it, she must be taking good care of Rickon. She
held him close to her when the boy shivered in the cold; she built a fire and
covered him with a raggedy old cloak as he slept. From the way Osha guarded
over Rickon, Catelyn was sure that she would do her best to keep him safe, even
if she had to risk her life.

Rickon was barely
five; he should have had a clean and warm bed, with a warm supper and warm
clothes. He should have his mother and father tucking him into bed, reading him
bedtime stories and showering him with hugs and kisses. He had lost his parents
much earlier than his siblings. He had not had much time to be with his
parents, to learn what it meant to have a warm and loving family around him.
And now he was living in the streets with a wildling slave to look after him.
Catelyn wished she could see him grow; to watch him grow taller and stronger,
witness him transforming into a man like she did with Robb. Rickon; he would do
her proud. One day, he would be a fine, brave young man. He would miss his
mother, but he would understand. Catelyn hugged her baby boy and kissed him
goodbye.

Then there was
Bran. Her sweet, young Bran. He was also alive, curling in a tower in the
middle of nowhere. He was in the company of strangers, a boy and a girl. Hodor
was with him. Catelyn learned of what her son could do, of his powerful gift.
She cried at the sight of him. He had grown so much since the last time she saw
him, she could barely recognize him. He was much taller; his eyebrows had
thickened, and his hair was longer. His babyish features were starting to form
into that of a man’s. Bran had always had that look of wisdom. He was smart and
brave, and he would no doubt grow into a very important man. She worried for
him and his journey north, but she knew that he was in good company. The Reed
siblings would die for him, she was sure of that now. And Hodor would protect
him with all his might. It pained her to think of Bran’s cripple. Yet she knew
that he would endure. He was a Stark, after all, and Starks were strong men.

She ran her hand
through her son’s matted brown hair and kissed him for the last time.

She thought that
was all; that her business was finished, that she was ready for what was coming
next. But she was pulled away even farther north, and she was surprised to find
herself staring at the Wall.

Instantly, she knew
why she was here. She wished she did not have to come here, but an invisible
force had taken her here, and she knew that there was something left she had to
do.

Jon Snow was lying
fast asleep in his bed, his face and body wounded. His wild, curly hair had
grown much longer than the last time she had seen him. His beard had grown as
well. He was a man now. For the hundredth time in her life, Catelyn was
bitterly reminded of how much he looked like Ned. He was his son after all.
Never hers, but always his.

There were times in
her life when Catelyn wished that Jon was dead. When she saw the child playing
outside, she would wish that some horrible beast would charge on him and tear
him to pieces; or an accident would occur in the castle, or he would catch some
sickness he could not cure from. Once, at dinner, she even wished that he would
choke on his soup and lie dead on the floor within the next minute. When Bran
fell off that tower, Catelyn wickedly wished that it was Jon instead of Bran.
Let it be the bastard in place of her dear son.

Every time she
gazed upon Jon, her heart broke all over again. There was the living proof of
Ned’s disloyalty, her disgrace in flesh and blood. He was always a quiet child,
a polite and somber child. He rarely caused any trouble in the household,
always knowing his place, always knowing how to keep his silence and please his
father. Catelyn knew that he was never in the wrong. That it was never his
mistake, that she should never even blame him. It was never his fault. Yet it
was harder than she thought to forgive him, let alone love him. The way Ned
always loved and cared for him as he did the trueborn children she gave him pained
her even more.

Yet, as she stood
by Jon’s bed, she was filled with a bizarre sensation deep within her. She saw,
for the first time, of how brave and strong he was. He was just a boy, yet he
had been through so much. He was in pain now, Catelyn could sense it. He was in
love, yet his duties kept him from his heart’s desire. She could sense that
Jon’s affections were pure and innocent. She felt how strongly he loved her,
this wild, fiery-haired wildling with beautiful green eyes. You know nothing, Jon Snow. Those words
kept running through the bastard’s head as he slept through the night.

Almost instantly,
Catelyn felt a deep sympathy for Jon. She remembered everything she had ever
done to him; all the cruel words, the cold looks, the harsh treatments and punishments.
She was filled with remorse and disgust towards herself. She was reminded, by
the same invisible force that pulled her here, that Jon had always been loyal
to the Starks. That he was always a loving brother to her children; that he
would kill to protect his family, even herself. That despite everything she had
done to him, he still respected her and would unquestioningly keep her safe
from any harm. He knew of her resentment towards him, yet he still cared for
her. What more could she ask from him? What more could he do to prove himself
worthy of her affections?

She wanted to call
out to him then. She wanted to look at him in the eye and beg for his
forgiveness. Forgive me, she wanted
to say to him, for making your entire
life a living hell. She wanted to talk to him for one last time, to tell
him that she should have treated him better, that she should have been kinder,
more sympathetic towards him. That she should have called him “son.” That he
should have been Jon Stark instead. For he had not lacked the qualities of a
true Stark; he only lacked half the bloodline.

Suddenly, Catelyn
felt something lifted off her shoulders. A heavy burden, seventeen years’ worth
of hatred and anger. Her spirit felt light as air, and she had never felt this
free for too long a time. A laugh of joy escaped her lips. She gazed down at
the boy, and for the first time, she felt not even the slightest bit of
bitterness towards him. She was free of her chains of grudge, and it was the
best thing that had happened to her. She had prayed to the gods for years to be
freed from these bonds of hatred, and finally, her prayers were heard.

Slowly, carefully,
Catelyn brushed a tangle of dark hair off Jon’s face. He stirred and frowned in
his deep slumber. He murmured the wildling girl’s name. She must be the only
thing in his mind right now. Catelyn pitied him, more than anything. She wished
the wildling survived. She wished both of them survived, and that they could
run off to a hidden place to live together happily. After all he had been
through, Jon deserved some happiness. He deserved a life, and with this wildling
Catelyn was sure they could build a happy life together. She prayed one more
time to the gods to let the two of them survive this war. Let them build a
house somewhere in the woods, away from all the killing and torturing. Away
from the war. Away from all the chaos and destruction. Let them know nothing
but love and gratitude and joy and peace. Let them live. Please.

For the first time,
Lady Catelyn Stark planted a kiss on Jon Snow’s forehead. “Farewell, Jon Snow,”
she bade him. “I wish you nothing but happiness.”

She cried then.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She started to sob uncontrollably again. She
covered her face with her hands. She did not know what happened to her next.
She could feel the wind rustling around her. She could hear her children’s
direwolves, scattered around Westeros, howl in unison into the night.

It was a long
moment before the hand placed itself on Catelyn’s shoulder. Warm, familiar arms
wrapped themselves around Catelyn’s frail body. Someone kissed her temple and
gently uncovered her face. She dared not look, but she already knew who it was.
She controlled her sobbing and took a deep breath before turning around.

Lord Eddard Stark
of Winterfell was exactly as she had remembered him before she left King’s
Landing. He was tall and handsome and confident, his blue eyes sparkling, his
smile warm. He was unscathed, whole and intact. There was nothing but affection
in his eyes.

Catelyn was
reminded of their wedding day so many years ago. Before he draped his cloak
over her, she had noticed how deep and beautiful Ned’s eyes were. They were
ones of kindness, of peace and love. She knew then that she had chosen the
right husband. Now, more than eighteen years later, in the afterlife, she was
reminded of how much she loved her husband.

He took her hands.
She rested her head on his chest, like she used to many a night. More figures
appeared around her, hugging her, warming her, comforting her. Robb and Talisa
were by her and Ned’s side, embracing each other. Her father was somewhere
close by, watching the reunion with a smile. Brandon and Lyanna, Ned’s brother
and sister, stood by their father Rickard, arm in arm. Even Jory was there,
faithfully standing next to his Lord. Summer, Sansa’s direwolf, nuzzled herself
on Catelyn’s feet.

Catelyn knew that
she could feel no more contempt than this. Her children would be all right;
they would survive. They would be taken care of. She was finally free of a
grudge she had behold for years. And now she was finally reunited with her most
beloved people. For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Catelyn was
finally, truly happy.

“Are you ready, my
love?” Ned asked her.

She turned her eyes
upon him. There were stars in his eyes. “Always,” she said.

She gave Westeros
and the world she knew one last, long look. She prayed to the gods for each and
every one of her children. Sansa, Arya, Brandon, Rickon, and Jon. She knew that
she would watch over them, and that the journey ahead for them were still long.
She would have to say goodbye now, but she would be reunited with all of them
again soon. She promised.

She whispered her
farewells to Westeros and to the world. Then she took Ned’s hand, and they
walked into the light, together as one.

Did you enjoy my story? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Thanks,
Riri Goei

Saph:
I liked the novel, but it has many grammer and punctuation mistakes. It also seems like it was rushing a lot. I wish there was a description of everyone's appearance, like hight, hair length, hair color, eye color, and hair type. It didn't flow that well but it was still understandable and pretty...

Peaceapeace:
It is a fitting sequel to the unnoticed mate. I liked that it focused on second chances. I like the characters and the flow of the story. But we were not told what happened to the rogue wolf who was the cause of all the problems

nattynat:
Everything about this book is AMAZING. From the beginning...the plot. the twist. the climax. the ending...everything is GREAT! And of course...the writer is incredibly AMAZING too. Love this book soooo much.

DeepDarkMystery:
This book was good and had a solid storyline throughout. The changing POV’s and third person POV’s could be confusing at times but the story still flowed, a few grammatical errors and spelling mistakes here and there but this book we brilliant. Many thanks to the author :)

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